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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607924">Blood, Sex and Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/X_avfc/pseuds/X_avfc'>X_avfc</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vanity emmerdale, vanity - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:47:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,520</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/X_avfc/pseuds/X_avfc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ms Dingle teaches Vanessa at school, it’s coming to the end of the year, what will happen?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>vanity - Relationship, vanity emmerdale - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blood, Sex and Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Blood, sex, and death.” Those were the three things MS Dingle taught us were part of every gothic horror novel. She was the high school english teacher I hopelessly crushed on, and I couldn’t help but notice that her eyes lingered on me when she said the second word. Sex.<br/>
I was a senior then, about to graduate. Glued to my seat even in the late, late spring when my classmates were terminally zoned out, focused on graduation, the summer ahead of them, college. But I still had unfinished business here, and today she was wearing a black blazer over a white button-up and jeans that were just snug enough to drive my imagination wild. When she perched on the edge of his desk reading from The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, I let my eyes wander up and down her body, imaging a new use for each part.<br/>
She was the new cute teacher this year, the one the girls whispered about between classes. Ms Dingle is looking good today. I’d tried to pretend I wasn’t one of them before, it’s not interesting to have the same crush as everyone else. But her charm was undeniable, who else could make the classics so sexy? Every day when she taught her inflection would bounce up and down with passion as she taught us about Bram Stoker and Shirley Jackson.<br/>
When she taught Dracula she became brooding and obsessive, delving into each character. Even in the clinical, fluorescent-lit classroom it was sexual. I spend the 50 minute class period imagining her lips — her teeth — on my neck, finding me in secret, lusting after my “life force” as Stoker says. The week she spent on, The Haunting of Hill House, was one of the most oddly erotic of my life. The text was thrilling, I was in a constant state of suspense and I held myself to not reading ahead, and being completely present in class when she talked about the role adrenaline plays in our bodies physiological state as we read. I didn’t ask, but I was sure my increased interest in her was one of those byproducts she was talking about.<br/>
When graduation was only a few weeks away, I felt bolder. Surely I should make a move, if the consequences of being rebuffed were so low? What could they do? I was almost gone. And so I became consumed with the idea of hooking up with Ms Dingle.<br/>
At first, I thought I could be subtle. Ms Dingle certainly noticed when I wore something low-cut or a little more form-fitting. Once I entered her classroom in a dress that particularly accentuated my curves and I could have sworn I heard her groan. But understandably, she never did anything more than cast a lingering glance my way.</p>
<p>She’d get in too much trouble, I reasoned. I’m going to have to be the one to do something. So I put my mind into creating the perfect plan: I’d just have to present her with an opportunity she couldn’t say no to.<br/>
The senior end-of-year dance was coming up, and I inserted myself into the planning committee long enough to serve as an official liaison and ask Ms Dingle if she would be a chaperone, apparently we were in desperate need of one (I didn’t ask anyone else). A light flickered in her eyes as I carefully enunciated the word desperate. Hopefully that was a look of comprehending my agenda. She agreed to the task. I bought new lingerie, black and red and lacy. I wore it under a loose-fitting white sundress, pure and virginal like a gothic heroine, but dark and carnal underneath.</p>
<p>At the dance, I added a note to the clipboard waiting for her as a chaperone. It was the regular list of rules to enforce and emergency contacts. My note was underneath, it was a line from Dracula along with her room number:</p>
<p>No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.” CLC 345.</p>
<p>I never went to the dance. Instead I made my way through the dark and empty corridors of the school until I let myself into her classroom. I brought with me one candle to break up the darkness without relying on the fluorescents. Lighting it and setting it on a desk in the front row I climbed into MS Dingle’s seat behind her desk, pulled the straps of my dress down so the top of my lacy bra was revealed, and crossed my legs with my heels resting on the edge of her desk, waiting.<br/>
It was a long wait. She didn’t find my note right away, but it became pleasurably agonizing, every tiny sound I heard in the hallway seemed like it could be her approaching. I got excited and then mellowed again when I realized it was my imagination. When she did come, I didn’t even hear her approach.</p>
<p>“Vanessa”</p>
<p>It was a guess she made as she entered the classroom, it was too dim to see my face but I had made sure the glow illuminated my nearly bare legs. I was glad she was expecting it to be me.<br/>
“Ms Dingle.” I acknowledged her and removed my legs from her desk, slowly crossing them in front of me.<br/>
“This note… what are you doing here? We shouldn’t be here.”<br/>
She was saying the words, but even to someone who wasn’t engaging in wishful thinking they sounded unconvincing. She didn’t want them to be true. I stood up and leaned against the edge of her desk, facing her, opening my legs a bit so she could imagine himself between them.<br/>
“MS Dingle, I’m sorry if you’re misunderstanding. I just wanted to discuss Dracula more.”<br/>
She moved closer, grinning.</p>
<p>When she was close enough that I could touch her, I grabbed her blazer and pulled her body into mine. I could feel she was already wet as she pressed against the loose fabric separating us. The situation excited her  as much as it excited me. “You’ve always been my favorite student, Vanessa, but I could get in a lot of trouble for being here right now.”<br/>
Pulling harder on her blazer, my mouth found her neck. “I’ll just have to make it worth your while then.”<br/>
She groaned and her hands found the undersides of my thighs, pulling me closer to her and moving us both back so I was resting on his desk. I slide back farther and wrapped my legs around her.<br/>
“I just wanted to experience this before graduation,” I told her, “I’ve been trying not to make a move all year.”<br/>
Even in the low light, I could see the smile that spread across her face. She says she loves the way I look lying on her desk. I respond by feeling the wetness in her pants, attempting to grip her through the fabric and feeling her get wetter.<br/>
“We need to make this quick. They’ll look for me if I don’t come back.”<br/>
“Perfect.” With the suspense building as long as it had, I wouldn’t last long in her arms anyway.<br/>
I heard her unbuckle her belt and unzip her pants but I didn’t look away from her face. Even in the dark she looked beautiful. I wanted her to tell me more about sex and blood and death but I also just wanted to experience it with her — all the parts of being human, all the things worth writing about.<br/>
I was happy there, to be a willing participant in a fantasy I was sure she had. Happy when she slid the lace panties I’d brought for the occasion off, happy when she didn’t bother to remove my bra but instead pulled my breasts free from it, and especially happy when her body met mine.</p>
<p>While forging a path with her mouth from my neck, down to my collarbone, and then landing on my breasts she pulled me closer to her and entered me with her fingers. The speed with which she poured her fingers into me belied her eagerness. I knew she wanted me as much as I wanted her to. As much as I’d fantasized about her wanting me.<br/>
Lowering herself so her face was next to mine she whispered, “Vanessa, if you want to be a great student you’re going to have to finish me off with your mouth.” I pushed her onto her desk then Kneeling before her I pulled down her pants and dived straight into her wetness,working my tongue around her clit. Her hands worked their way through my hair, separating it into two ponytails she held firmly as she used them to guide my head into her wetness, increasing in rhythm until I felt her tense up, her hands clenching my hair. Pulling my head down on her he held me there and shoved me into her pussy. I could taste the saltiness as I removed myself from her, licking my lips.<br/>
It was the perfect end to my senior year.</p>
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